Everyone is moving around. I see the dots on the map. Mine is Black Mountain, NC--even though that is half an hour from where I am right now. I see Michael's and Carmen's and Amelia/Jack/Rebecca's and I see Jack's in the valley dot and I see Sarah and Bearden on opposite ends of the country. I just want to know where you each are. Emotionally, creatively, physically.
I guess that is a weirdo question. Because I don't know how to answer it. I don't even know where I am. I busted out of Texas so fast, I feel like I don't recognize anything. I didn't know how to say goodbye, so I didn't. My house sold. I told the lady who bought it that Dago and Denis had been there and that Barry had stayed across the street. She listened, but I could tell she'd never heard of any of them. It felt haunted by us though, I'll tell you that. The emptier it got, the more I remembered our time there. North Carolina is pretty and it smells good. But I am not here yet. I'm here. But I'm off in the clouds. Running errands all the time.
I miss you. check in.
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just pretend nick is rebecca and meagan is tracy and bearden is hiding behind michael's diploma and that's us
double O'sevens
just pretend nick is rebecca and meagan is tracy and bearden is hiding behind michael's diploma and that's us
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8 comments:
My throbbing dot says Paron, Arkansas. I'm not sure but that seems made up.
I am doing well, but when we're actually moving is up in the air. That's bugging me, because we set a move date, then something happens with selling the house, and we have to change it.
I'm tending a sunburn in Port Aransas today and watching John Wayne movies with my dad. My days are getting better but my dreams are getting worse. Funny enough you figured highly in last night's dream, Abby. I kept trying to find you but I couldn't figure out where you were.
I just finished another bogus unit in my alternative certification instruction. Alternative, in this case, seemes to mean "down home teachin' advice for folks who are obviously too lazy to attend a real certification program."
I was also just so hungry that I ate almost an entire ham sandwich on rye bread, and I despise rye.
I was just in Port Aransas! Watch out for trucks on the beach.
I'm teaching two summer classes back to back. It's ending up like a real 9 -5 job, which is truly dampening my spirit. I have Friday's off, though, so last night I drank a double gin gimlet and passed out at 10pm.
One good things is it is hot here for the first time in ages. I am living at the beach in my free time. I have a flip flop tan.
The air smells like camping right now because of the wildfires in Santa Cruz. I told James yesterday we need to go to Lake Tahoe by the end of summer so we can really go camping.
Other than that, I have to go to a book club tonight where we are discussing the most horrible book ever: Christopher Buckley's Boomsday. Don't. Ever. Read. It.
I'm in Albuquerque, working PT at a law firm, rewriting content for their brochure and website. ABQ is strange in a good way - dirty, dusty, mountainous. More laid back than Austin and definitely less fancy. Lots of hippies, green chilis. Last weekend I rode on a convertable in the Pride parade and threw nasty bubble gum to the crowd. One piece hit a baby smack in the face!
This weekend I'm going to Taos and will stop by the DH Lawrence Ranch on the way up. I like to think someday our readers will stop by all of our weird Austin/San Marcos apartments to pay homage on their ways to wherever.
My mom and dad came over yesterday and dropped off a trailer, so we could start loading things in it. Dad--garden extraordinaire--took a look at my garden and pointed out that I have squash bugs. I panicked. I'm still panicked. My squash and zucchini are the movie stars, colorful and luscious where as my tomatoes, cucumbers, dill, and onions are run-of-the-mill day laborers.
I should point out now that none of this matters except in this way:
I love the idea of making something from a nothing seed,and it's been fun and I'm proud. But the lady who is trying to buy our house has turned into a bitch, asking us to re-do already costly repairs because she wanted something fancier. Of course, I refused, and she still wants the house anyway, But to me such ridiculous, nickel and diming us to death is unforgivable, and I want to punish her. Or maybe I'm masochistic and want to punish myself? What is the instinct to create then destroy? I think on the way out of Arkansas, I'm going to mow down my garden and leave a note that says, "you just thought you were getting some vegetables, but you aren't."
My two summer vacations this year will be my 20th high school reunion in Burlington, Washington, and Mark's in Sherwood, Arkansas. Other than that, I still spend my days fussing over flooring, and much of my spare time fussing over cats. As if Simon's strange skin ailment wasn't enough, Loki now has diabetes, and we have to give him insulin shots. I did the Danskin triathlon a few weeks ago, so I've also spent a lot of time in muddy water with a swim cap and goggles, and I finally learned to freestyle swim without nearly drowning.
Poor Loki! I had to give Dr. Leder's sweet cat Newt diabetes shots multiple times a day. If it's any consolation, the cat gets used to them pretty fast.
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